


Am I allowed to look at her like that?

by gaysnerd



Series: emergency beaujester week [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beau is the model, F/F, Fellas is it gay to religously draw your best friend?, Jesters Art, Jesters POV, secret muse, the Inherent homoeroticism of drawing your best friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24266032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysnerd/pseuds/gaysnerd
Summary: Jester is first and foremost, an artist. When she met Beau, she finally found the muse she was looking for. She wasn't quite sure why she loved drawing Beau so much, but she enjoyed it nonetheless.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Series: emergency beaujester week [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749760
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87
Collections: Emergency Beaujester Week





	Am I allowed to look at her like that?

**Author's Note:**

> title from She- Dodie

The night after Jester met Beau, she drew Beau's hands. She wasn’t quite sure why she did. Jester happened to catch a glimpse of Beau wiping the sweat off her brow, and noticed that Beau's hands seemed soft, despite the cut and bruised knuckles.

Their apparent softness, Jester gathered, came from the way they were built. Long and slender fingers, that moved with a practiced grace. Every time Beau moved her hands, she did so with a purpose. Every punch, every spin of her staff, beau knew exactly what her hands purpose in the situation was.

So, Jester drew Beau’s hands.

By the time the Mighty Nien had gotten to Zadash, Jester had filled many pages of her sketchbook with Beaus' hands. She drew them in every position she saw Beau move them in.

They were a good study, Jester told herself. She needed to be better at drawing hands in general, and when her best friend proved to be such a wonderful secret model, how could she resist. 

She watched the way Beau constantly fiddled with her sashes when they were in town. For someone who constantly defied all authority figures and societal exceptions, she cared an awful lot about her appearance. Her fingers constantly twisting and untwisting the ties, nimbly tying and untying knots. 

She watched the way Beau fights, with so much power pulsing through her fists. The bloody knuckles, the scars. Beaten, but not broken, still serving their user day in day out. 

Hands are tricky, Jester thought. Awkward proportions, and they are so easy to mess up. A single line out of place can make a hand clunky or stiff. Hands were filled with motion, with energy, and capturing that energy, Jester felt was essential.

She never had any issues drawing Beaus' hands.

Jester wondered what it would be like to hold them.

* * *

Jester enjoyed watching beau work on the ship. While mindlessly sketching the seagulls that circled the mast, she happened to look up and catch a glimpse of Beau lifting something. What she noticed was the way Beaus' entire upper body seemed to be perfectly sculpted, every muscle defining itself in a way that screamed the work of a master.

She stopped drawing the seagulls.

She drew Beau instead. She drew her arms, carefully studying how each muscle worked in tandem with each other, and they way they twisted and strained in an effortless manner. 

Jester never fully understood why Beau chose to never wear sleeves. She'd previously thought it was maybe a comfort thing, or the way she was raised, in the dry heat of Kamordah. 

Now, Jester liked to think that Beau was just showing off. 

There were days where Beau was working on the deck of the ship with just a wrap around her torso. These were the days Jester was particularly excited to sit and watch her friend work. 

Now she was able to extend her drawings into the shoulders, because she was able to get a better look at them. 

How strong, she thought, must be the shoulders of a monk. Their power lay not in their fists or feet, but through the core. Powerful roots make a powerful tree, and what a power Beau's shoulders carried. 

She studied the way Beau's shoulder moved. The way it flexed and rotated with such ease around its axis, fluid and graceful. Yet there was an inherent strength in the way it moved, supported, and deep rooted. 

She studied the dip between the collarbone and the neck that appeared when Beau lifted up her arms. How strong she must be, to have all her muscles working is such a tandem to perfectly shape her figure. 

The crew teased her, for sitting and drawing all day, never helping on deck. 

There is nothing on the ship to fix yet, she argued. And she wanted to improve her art skills, and she had found that drawing Beau was the best way to do that. She didn't say the second bit out loud. 

Jester wondered what it would feel like to be held tightly in Beau's arms. 

She had been hugged by Beau before, of course, but not to the point where she felt like all of her troubles would melt away. 

She wanted Beau to hold her like that.

* * *

Jester didn't necessarily have to share a room with Beau in the Xhorhouse. She wanted to, if not to spend more time with her best friend, then to spend time drawing her. 

See, Beauregard liked to stretch and meditate in the mornings. 

Jester felt guilty watching, peeking her eyes out from the covers of her bed in the early morning, to watch Beau go about this routine. 

Jester didn't draw her this though. This was something private of Beau's, the simple morning routine of an otherwise tumultuous person. 

So instead jester chose to draw beau's face. Every other moment of the day, beau was never this calm, with her face so relaxed. Even when Beau was sleeping, Jester could tell that her mind was still racing, thinking about the day that had passed and the day to come. Beau is defined by her motion, her energy. So Jester told herself to use this moment to focus on a different part of Beau, one only she was privy to. Even if Beau thought jester was asleep, she still trusted Jester with this moment they silently shared. The only moment the two of them are truly at rest. 

Jester drew Beau's face with a care she hasn't taken with any other part of Beau's body. This was when Beau was her most raw, so Jester treated her art as such. 

She took care with the shape of beau's cheekbones, with the way it was finally relaxed. For a monk, Beau's face was always quite tense, filled with thought and concern. She thinks she prefers Beau's face to be relaxed. 

She took care with the shape of Beau's mouth, and the soft lines that appeared around it as her cheekbones relaxed. Jester loved the shape of Beau's mouth. Her full lips with their soft curve that curls up into a knowing smirk. 

Jester thinks that all the girls Beau has kissed must be very lucky. 

She wonders if they are as soft as beau's hands. Which she did find out are in fact quite soft, confirming her suspicions. So soft that when Jester finally got to feel them she never wanted to let them go. 

She thinks Beau's lips might be softer.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi thanks so much for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Come hang out with me on my socials! Ill start posting snippets of my work, as well as take prompts, on my tumblr!  
> tumblr: @barikiwi  
> twitter: @gayysnerd  
> if any of u wanna scream about gay things i am ur gal


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